Abstract
by lkolodziej
Summary: This a story by pottermouth17 she wanted me to post for her because she lacks a computer. Pm her for questions and details. Charlie wasn't looking for trouble. She wasn't looking for a savior either, but when opportunity knocks..why not open the door (I suck at summaries)


Author's Note: Hello! This is my first fanfiction! I must say, there are several Neville/OC stories! I hope this one is counted as a good one! Before you begin reading, I warn you that this story is rated M for a reason. On top of mature themes there are also many triggers in this story so, TRIGGER WARNING! Also, there will most certainly be smut in this so this ain't for kiddos alright? Good! Reviews are much appreciated! Constructive criticism helps make my story better! For the permanent record; I own nothing but my OCs! Love y'all!

~Pottermouth

"Charlie Hughes?" Called Professor McGonagall for a second time, scanning the room for the blonde hair that could be seen from a mile away. Frowning, she marked the young witch as absent on the chart. Clearing her throat, she continued into the day's lesson: object to animal Transfiguration.

Meanwhile in the girls lavatory on the third floor, Charlie gripped the seat of the toilet she was kneeling in front of with white knuckles. She was cold and clammy and tried to stifle a choking sob as she felt a new wave of guilt was over her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and sat up a tad bit straighter as she composed herself. She felt so terribly guilty. There was only one way to undo what she had inflicted upon herself. And with a grimace she opened her mouth and pressed her index finger roughly into her uvula. She haunched her shoulders over the ceramic bowl as her body shook and she felt the heavy meal come back up. The tears were flowing freely now, intermingling with the sweat dripping down her brow. Her stomach clenched once more as she forced her body to rid itself of the food consumed fifteen minutes prior. After what seemed to her like an eternity of vomiting, she deemed herself cleansed of the offending meal. She flushed and stumbled out of the stall, to the grimy sinks. She glared at her reflection in the broken glass in front of her. Her long blonde curls were tangled and damp with sweat and her usually sun kissed complexion was ghostly, making the light dusting of freckles across her nose appear more prominent. She stared into cerulean blue eyes that were puffy and bloodshot from crying. She lightly stroked the ugly scar that stretched over her left temple to her hairline, it was old and faded, but she new that the memory of how she obtained it would never leave her. This broken mirror not only reflected her outer appearance, but also the way her emotions felt inside; jagged and mismatched like the pieces of several puzzles forced into one. She hated her inner turmoil. She hated herself. hated this. She hated this awful process: binge, regret, purge, and repeat. She silently washed her mouth out and rinsed her hands. She picked up her bag and left the room like she had just gone in there to use the facilities. She was lucky that no one had seen her enter or exit, they would've known that she had not needed to use the loo. The third floor bathroom was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Nobody went in there unless they wanted complete solitude. And even then they would be lucky to get it, because Myrtle is rather nosey. However, she always left Charlie alone when she came in, because she knew what it felt like to utterly hate yourself.

The bell rang and the students rushed out the door almost stampeding a rather somber-looking Charlie. Only a few have her a second glance but that was only because she had not been present in class that day. She walked into the empty classroom and looked around quickly. "Professor?" She called tentatively. "Professor McGonagall, my I speak to you?" She repeated now spying the teacher whom she required. "Ah, Miss Hughes, certainly! Though I must ask, why weren't you present in class today?" Charlie's Head of House replied cheerfully. Charlie rung her hands and suddenly became very enamored with her graffiti ridden saddle oxfords at the mention of her absence. "Professor, I was not feeling well after lunch and decided to visit Madame Pomfrey. I am terribly sorry to have missed your class, I assure you that I will obtain the assignment from a friend and have it ready by tomorrow." She looked up at McGonagall earnestly. "I'm sorry to hear that you feel ill, as for your assignment, I expected nothing less from my best student and exemplary Gryffindor." McGonagall said briskly. "Thank you." Charlie said with a nod, bidding the teacher a good day and turned on her heel into the hallway.

Sighing, she dropped her book bag with a dull thud and pulled off her robe. She tossed it over the back of a rather comfortable armchair in the Gryffindor common room. After settling herself in said chair, she closed her eyes and relaxed as three sleepless nights finally caught up to her.

She awoke with a jolt as she landed on the hard ground in front of the roaring fireplace. She scanned the crowded room for the offender, but came to the conclusion that she rolled on her own. Yawning, she stretched and got to her feet, wiping the remnants of sleep from her eyes. There was a good number of people milling about in the room and judging by the looks of content relaxation and the darkness outside the windows, she realized she had missed dinner. She shrugged her shoulders and lugged her bag up to the sixth year girls dormitory, unknowingly abandoning her indistinguishable black robe. After changing into a thin pair of pajama pants that hung low and loosely on her hips and a much too large t-shirt that smelled distinctly of cologne. She removed her contacts and tied her hair into a messy bun and slipped back into the still-bustling common room. Charlie had planned on being able to sneak out of the Gryffindor atrium without drawing any attention, but that came to a screeching halt when she looked up after bumping into someone.

She tried fruitlessly to camouflage the rouge dancing on her cheeks as she gazed at an extremely tall Neville Longbottom. He stared at her face before coming back to reality and flushing red. He attempted to stammer out an apology and the one time his eyes flicked down to Charlie's chest, she became painfully aware of how bra-less she was. To cover her embarrassment, she quickly crossed her arms and hushed him by saying, "Sorry Neville, I really should pay more attention to my surroundings." She gave him a feeble smile and side-stepped him into the corridor.

Neville couldn't even process what had just happened. Never before had a girl ever stuttered and blushed when in confrontation with him. He had always been viewed as the 'Big Brother' to every girl in Hogwarts. The guy that girls went to for advice on boys and whom they trusted with their secrets and crushes. This girl had actually seemed flustered by him. This girl was Charlie Hughes. He'd had a crush on her since third year and only after having observed her from afar, did he realize now how stunning she truly was, even in her big, bulky glasses and pajamas. He shuddered with pleasure at the memory of her in that shirt. Neville had always prided himself on his chivalry and treatment of people, especially women. His Gran had been sure to pound that lesson into him. _"Always be respectful towards a lady! You do not want to be seen as some insolent fool who only wants a woman for his own needs. Keep your hands in good place and your eyes on her face!"_ He smiled at this thought and walked to his favorite chair by the fire only to find someone's robe draped haphazardly over the back. Picking up the item, he examined the the front only to find his ticket to a real conversation with the girl of his dreams. Upon inspection he saw her full name embroidered in golden cursive, Charlotte Jenevieve Hughes. Smiling and shaking his head, he folded the robe and wondered if Fate had anything to do with her forgetting this here.


End file.
